


Diluculum

by PhoenixSaturn



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Demacia stuff, Drama, Drama and Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Shyvana is conspicuously missing from Demacia events and I hate it lol, So this is to fix that, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSaturn/pseuds/PhoenixSaturn
Summary: Demacia should be no place for a dragon. But dragons don't care what others think. J4/Shyv.
Relationships: Jarvan Lightshield IV/Shyvana
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shyvana's absence in Demacian events is conspicuous. This is to fix that. My intent is for this to be a longer fic. Smut will likely be in the future, but won't be a major focus of the story. There will be violence, fight scenes, and character death. Proceed at your own risk.

She still remembered the day her life changed forever.

It was on a precipice before that. She sought to escape to the mountains, where she could hide from Yvva, the great dragon. Where their connection would be dampened, where she’d be alone, with no one to risk burning alive, standing between her and her mother. She ran further and further- Until a heartbeat sounded. The soft sound of strained breath, a man gasping for air. He was hidden in the brush, he’d made an effort to hide himself, but a dying man’s feeble shelter could not trick her senses.

He’d had an arrow in his side. When she came close, his icy eyes were open, but unseeing, lost in pain and fever. Alone, he would surely die. Either die, or be killed- There were others, further away. It was no leap of understanding to know they were not this man’s friends. They had not found him yet, but one could yet get lucky. 

She had to make a decision. And Shyvana made it, that day. She would choose compassion. She would choose risk. She couldn’t save her village, her father… But for one person, she would risk discovery.

It had taken days to travel towards Demacia, even as a dragon, even nursing her rage, remembering the flames that rained down on her home. The burning hair and flesh, the terror and anguish of the villagers. Her father, gasping for just one clean breath of air amidst the smoke. He collapsed, and then he burned. She’d only had time for a shallow grave, amidst the trees they would walk among together when she was young. Even that flame, her draconic power that was both a blessing and a curse, could not make her travel faster than the pace she made. 

The man could have easily died along the way. But some spark within him gave him the strength to persevere; to weakly cling to her back as she alternately flew, then crawled, then flew again. Through brush and forests, snaking under fallen trees and gliding across rivers. She could have burned her way forward, but surely that would alert Yvva to her presence, and then both her and her charge would be dead. So she remained as discreet as her power would allow (though it galled her to have to cower for anything). 

When she had to rest, she covered the man in a cloak. He was delirious, whispering at nothing, looking around in fear every so often. She did not know what ailed him besides the physical, and it was pointless to ask in his current state. At least he did not scream. So rather than converse, she pulled the cloth over his head and closed her eyes. After a few hours, just as the earliest light began to pale the sky, they set off again.

Finally, after those days of travel, they made it. Frightened guards rushed to the castle walls. At the end she was hasty, disregarding her precautions- The man had ceased even his whispering, and it became difficult to keep him aloft with her. He had endured much, but people had their limits. Even this man, with half a head on even the tallest person she’d encountered before and clear strength within his entire frame. She’d hurried, and rumours seemed to have spread- They were watching the skies as she arrived, holding her charge on her back.

She remembered the shock on their faces. First at her, which stung but was sadly familiar. Purple, scaled skin, her piercing orange eyes, her height and the faint smoke coming from her nose as she panted. She hardly made for a convincing human. However, somehow that didn’t take center stage. Instead, something took even her by surprise- The soldiers called the man she carried their prince. Their prince was home, their prince needed aid. Fetch the doctors. Find the wise woman and tell no one about her. Suddenly everything was a rush.

The dragon had rescued the prince. Hahaha... It really had made her laugh, in that moment, with her limbs weighing like petricite and sleep now not just nibbling, but full on biting at the corners of her mind. Ahaha.

She’d been too tired to refuse the offer of a bed and food. She’d been travelling for days; her entire body was sore and begged her not to go just yet. Surely, she reasoned, Yvva would take just as long to reach her as she had taken to get here. She would have sensed Yvva’s presence before now had her mother been pursuing her while she carried a dying human. So she’d accepted their offer of sanctuary and fell asleep on a soft bed. It was the first time in weeks she’d done that.

For days she’d slept, she learned later. When she’d woken up, she’d devoured down the plate of fruit, bread, and dried meat laid out for her- Quite literally devoured, what were manners when one was so hungry? No one had been around to watch her and become afraid, fortunately. She caused enough fear all on her own, and frankly, it became tiresome.

When she’d stepped into the clothes left out for her and out of her room, she’d felt all eyes on her. She was given leave of the castle and its surroundings, but not of stares. Nothing new, really. What was new was what was in the eyes of some she encountered- Though they kept their pleasantries brief, not every gaze was of shock. Some were filled with curiosity, intrigue… And some, most surprisingly, held something new. Something she was unsure about.

Awe?

This was a place called Wrenwall, she learned. The great city of Demacia was not far off. She was welcome to stay, and though she was hesitant, many told her the prince would at least want to thank her in person (and they did not wish him trying to find her while he was in poor health). So she agreed. Just for a while, she thought. Just until the man was awake, so as to not burden the people here. She’d already witnessed how stubborn he was, she half-believed he might stumble along with his wounds to try to thank a stranger. 

It took another week for him to wake. In that time, she paced the territory outside the walls. She hunted twice and returned with wild boars that were promptly cut up and shared with the castle guards (many of the suspicious looks disappeared after that, and some would even wave when they saw her). She walked in the town, among more people than she’d ever been in contact with at once. And this was a small town- She could not imagine how many must live in Demacia proper. How did they handle so many colours, so many shops, so many mingling smells? It could become overwhelming- And at those times, she either sought the forest or returned to the castle. There too there were more riches than she was accustomed to, many guards in bright armour, but at least she could find somewhere quiet. A library, with its faintly musty books, or more often the training grounds, where she would hit the wood dummies with her bare fists. Somehow, it felt cathartic. It was most satisfying when they cracked from a single blow charged with dragonfire.

Soldiers would sometimes watch, thinking themselves to be unseen in the shadows. Let them, she did not mind, as long as they were quiet and did not interrupt her. They were probably curious- She might be too, put in their shoes. That was one of her father’s exercises- Think of yourself in their shoes. Think how they would, understand them. Then act accordingly.

But one day there was a new presence she sensed. One she could not quite discern- She knew where it was, but when she looked at the spot she smelled it from there seemed to be no one there.

She’d frowned at the time, but dismissed it. Later, one of the guards came to her door- The Prince had awakened. He asked for the one with wings. He asked for his saviour.

The wording had made her uncomfortable, the walk accompanied by two of the elite guards even more so. The Prince had been well-guarded while he recovered, and Shyvana hadn’t tried to see him. He didn’t know her, after all. They had no real bond to each other. She had no reason to think he would even remember any of their journey- He’d been completely out of reality, from what she’d been able to tell, raving about nothing intelligible. _Noxus_ , sometimes, but that was all she’d grasped. Ha. If he hadn’t been wearing clearly Demacian armour, and hadn’t had an arrow in his side that looked as dark as Noxus, she might have brought him right there. 

But, apparently, he remembered at least her wings.

He was sitting in bed, shirtless, with bandages still tied over his arrow wound- But there was no smell of blood, no ruddy stains on white cloth. It wasn’t on the sheets either, they must have been changed; which meant he’d either been moved from his bed, or had already been out of it. His dark beard was shaven, leaving only a shadow in its wake over a strong jaw. The skin under his eyes was still dark, some lines creased his brow. But his eyes were sharp now, a far cry from when she had first found him.

How would this man take her appearance? Did he remember anything apart from their flight? When he looked up from a piece of parchment he’d been reading and saw her, his eyes widened- but unlike many, she didn’t immediately smell fear, and when he spoke, she blinked in surprise.

“They spoke the truth..! You’re a half-dragon, right from the old tales. Amazing…”

There was an awkward half-second where both simply gazed upon the other. The guard to her left finally coughed and gently nudged her foot with his own. Oh- Was she meant to kneel? It felt _unnatural_ to bow to anything. Even to a prince... Still, that did seem like the proper thing to do, when she thought about it. That’s probably what was expected of her. But as soon as she went to do so anyways he waved his hand.

“No. You will never bow to me. What I owe you is immeasurable. Please, might I know your name? It doesn’t seem polite to just call you ‘half-dragon’.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. And no, it wouldn’t be polite, it would be downright rude. Better than ‘beast’ or just terrified screams, but she still didn’t like it. 

“… Shyvana.”

Shyvana. Daughter of Yvva, greatest of the fire dragons of Shurima.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely had most of this chapter written a while ago but was struggling with the length of it. I decided to post another shorter chapter to set the scene before really getting into things. Thank you to everyone who's been patiently waiting for this fic- I really didn't mean for it to take so long. Look forward to more content soonish.

Her voice was low. Not impossibly so for a woman, but unusually so, carrying the clear rasp of smoke behind it. Her skin was a pale violet, darker patterns swirling across her visible skin like the ornate tattoos sported by Bilgewater’s pirates. Her hair too was a deep purple, worn in a tight ponytail atop her head. She wore a tunic and pants- He recognized the Demacian make and the ill fit of borrowed clothes. Did she not have clothes of her own? It was an indelicate question to ask her, but still he wondered. She was tall, and strength clearly lay in her frame. Her eyes were naturally outlined darkly, drawing attention to their orange glow and slitted pupils; they’d watched him with great care when they’d met.

A true half-dragon. There was absolutely no denying what she was. Even the greatest of skeptics that questioned whether half-dragons truly had existed and protected Demacia in the past would have been swayed, seeing her here. And she had happened upon him. What were the odds of that?

Her punches let out loud cracks every time she beat the wooden dummies she seemed to like to practice on. He couldn’t do much in his current state (not without the healers throwing a fit, in any case), so he had to be content to observe her self-imposed training. She’d never been formally taught, it showed in her movement- she simply got right into it and started hitting, favouring her right side. 

Her strength alone was impressive. Jarvan could see it getting her through life, were she fortunate enough to not run into any wars. Ha, but she already had, hadn’t she?

He was foolish, foolhardy- No, a downright idiot. He had allowed his grief and rage to consume him, to heed all caution and drive far beyond where his forces could come to snatch him from the fires of war. His men had followed him and died for his idiocy. No matter how hard they fought they died around him, surrounded by foul Noxians. He’d called for retreat, but even then that was not enough. One by one, each of them died so he might live another day. A soldier younger than him. A grizzled soldier on his last shift before he could retire to his family. “For Demacia”, they said, as if he were the embodiment of their beautiful home and not a man just like them.

Even their (pointless, horrible) sacrifices had nearly been in vain. He’d been hit with an arrow, and though he escaped the scouts that pursued him he couldn’t treat his wound. At first it hurt, throbbing with pain that pounded through his whole body. He couldn’t sleep in that state, he spent what must have been hours alternating between hiding at any sound echoing through his skull and trying to make ground. Not that he’d known where he was going, or how long it would take. He just kept going. If he died, those lives lost would truly mean nothing. He was responsible for them; they had to achieve something… Please…

Finally, he’d collapsed. His wound was growing cold, his vision blurred around the edges. He might not die breathing in smoke and the blood of the fallen, but he would die… Alone, at that. If his wound did not take him, his fever would. He could crawl no further.

He’d thought meeting the Kindred was inevitable. Perhaps the Wolf was already tracking him. But instead, someone else found him.

He thought he was going mad, seeing her shape. The memories were fleeting, but he remembered her eyes, burning like hot coals with a lingering glow. He felt himself being moved, pulled out from the leaves and branches he’d halfheartedly tossed over himself to hide from the scouts (better to die alone than be strung up as their prize), then suddenly they were flying, moving through the forest at incredible speed. He knew not what strength kept him holding onto her, he did not know she managed to find him. It felt greater than chance; like perhaps fate was involved. By some kindness of the gods it seemed it was not yet his time.

He remembered little else. More shapes, a hand cradling his face. The sound of beating wings. When he woke it was in a room he did not recognize, with a Demacian guard standing watch looking very surprised to see him roused.

When they’d first met properly his saviour seemed uncomfortable with her surroundings. Though the half-dragon’s stance was strong and, honestly, naturally imposing, he could see her faintly shifting from one leg to the other, glancing at the guard then back at him a few times. But though she was clearly untrained she seemed to have none of that hesitation when faced with training statues.

Their conversation had been frustratingly short, not much more than an exchange of formalities. He understood, he knew he had a ways to go in healing and there was wisdom in his healers’ demands for brevity. But he wanted to know more. He wanted to know where she came from, how she’d come to save him. Did she have family out in the world? Were they wondering where she was, like he was sure his father worried for him? Ah…

And seeing her take out some hidden frustrations, he longed most of all to join her. If he could hold Drakebane in his hands, feel the very air cleave as he swung it, maybe he’d feel his strength return. Heh. He didn’t even know if his family’s ancestral weapon was here, if Shyvana had managed to bring it with them. For all he knew it still lay in that forest far away. But if it was here, and he could hold that beautiful lance again, maybe he would once more feel the thrill of battle, the call in his blood to defend the innocent mercilessly attacked by Noxus and the certainty that they _would_ triumph. Instead, he felt old and tired. Weighted. Weak as he never had before now. And gods, he knew he couldn’t be. He had to be Demacia. Find it in himself to be Demacia…

A sharp crack interrupted Jarvan’s thoughts, and he turned towards her. Naught remained of Shyvana’s unfortunate wooden victim but a burning husk of wood and embers. She flipped a piece of hair back from her face, clearly pleased with her work.

… Yes, he wanted to speak with her again. Just… Perhaps more casually, without an audience of guards and busybody healers. Just to talk, like two people could apparently do… Was that too much to ask?

* * *

One dummy was enough for the day, or Wrenwall would quickly run out of them. Shyvana collected the broken pieces. She didn’t want to leave a mess. The first guard she ran into raised an eyebrow at the mangled wood in her arms, but laughed in the end and offered to bring it to the firewood pile. At least it wouldn’t go to waste. And a laugh was a better reaction than she was expecting… She’d almost smiled back. _Almost._

The wounded soldier had been watching her train. She sensed it more clearly this time and easily identified it as him. No one else in this compound breathed with that slight note of pain. She saw no reason to draw attention to his watching, so she hadn’t called him out for it. Let him look if he pleased, it didn’t hurt her in any way.

She’d waited for a moment, wondering if he’d approach. But when he didn’t she’d carried on with her day. There was no need to wait for him either. He was a prince, if he needed her presence he could send someone to find her. At least, that was her reasoning. She’d never had anything to do with a prince before.

The thought still amused her, even with her delirium gone. Her of all people, happening upon a prince. She remembered what Jarvan had said- _Right from the old tales._ Heh. If only she was. Maybe then she might have saved her father. Maybe then she could have risen from the flames and fought Yvva for her village. Instead, only embers remained of that place. Only a grave in the woods, a single grave before she’d had to flee. The rest were out there, burning bodies and bones, most likely.

Feh. She swallowed down a lump in her throat. She couldn’t think of that. She couldn’t. Already she felt heat rising in her chest- Transforming would be dangerous in a densely populated area. She had no wish to put this town in danger. They’d been as welcoming as she’d ever experienced anywhere, she would not hurt anyone over idle memories. Shyvana took a deep breath, willing her mind to calm. It didn’t always work- But this time it did, and though her exhale was smoky, the flame within her subsided; fading until she was sure she was nowhere near the verge of transformation.

Another technique she’d learned from her father coming to her aid. But though she might have granted herself temporary reprieve, Shyvana knew she had to keep her mind off the topic or all her work maintaining her composure would get dumped right off the city wall. So rather than returning to her room to clean up a bit as she’d intended, she turned, heading for the castle's library.

Libraries were new to Shyvana. She had heard of them, of course, her father would tell her all about the troves of knowledge to be found in Piltover and even in some towns in Shurima, but in her isolated village she’d never encountered one. Most people likely never did, when she considered it... Maybe Demacia had libraries for all; it seemed to depend on the size of the town. Even now, she was only able to access this place because she was already in the castle here, where the books were kept. The first time she expressed interest the guards at the door seemed nervous, glancing at the smoke leaving her nose. Heh. Maybe they’d been afraid she would sneeze and set the place ablaze. Imagine how many decades of knowledge would be lost if _that_ were to happen. By now the guards on duty were used to her presence though, and barely batted an eye as she pushed the heavy wood door open and headed inside.

There were books and scrolls all over- Especially if one was looking for information on the history of Wrenwall. When she’d first glanced over the shelves she saw many things that had looked like journals. Those didn’t interest her much. Maybe another day. No, she was looking for something specific- Books on dragons. If she could find anything on the connection between her and Yvva, perhaps she could dampen it. Maybe Yvva would give up if she couldn’t track her…

Shyvana was doubtful of that. But anything was worth trying. Or eventually, Yvva would come. Maybe not right away, maybe it would take her… _Mother_ time, but eventually she would be hunted down. And the more people that were there when Yvva found her, the worse it would be.

She would not have more innocents staining her conscience. No more. The ones already there were enough.

Books on herbs, on military formations… Nothing. Maybe the knowledge she sought could only be found somewhere like Piltover, where scholars and people of science conducted business. Her father had warned her from going there, said that place would be dangerous for her. With Yvva chasing her… Yes, it would be. Shyvana closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a thin wisp of smoke come out with her breath.

She traced her hand down the spine of a book- And opened her eyes again, idly reading it. A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“… _Tales of the East_ …”

When her father would go off on long trips, sometimes he’d bring her back a book. This had been one of them. This one seemed older than her copy had been- The cover’s brown leather was soft, a corner turned inwardly just a bit and was darker with wear. Someone had read this book many times, or maybe many people had read it once.

… Well, it wouldn’t hurt to read it again. She opened the book, the faint smell of the pages widening her smile a bit.

There wasn’t any particular spot she liked to go; anywhere with a window for daylight to read by was the most convenient. In the library, it meant going far from the door to the edge of the room. One of the first things she’d done was pull a chair over to that side of the room for convenience sake. No one ever moved it back; it must not be missed in its original spot. Convenient. Sitting down in the chair, she began to read.


	3. Chapter 3

_“She wept, for finally her task was complete. She could return to her family with hope, for the priests agreed to aid her aunt-_ ”

The sound of the library door opening brought Shyvana out of the book. She snapped the book shut and quickly glanced over at the door. Oh. It was just the wounded soldier. Jarvan. A guard she vaguely recognized from her time here wheeled him in, nervously glancing behind him.

“My prince, I mean you no disrespect…”

“But you’re worried about my condition? I’m not such an invalid as to be unable to read… Please, I’d just like some time out of bed. I’ll lose my mind spending another three days there. Surely you understand?”

Pfft. Even a prince didn’t like keeping quiet and taking his medicine. She couldn’t deny she would have felt the same way. She’d often tried to plead to her father with a runny nose that she was well enough to go outside. Ha… She opened her book again, but kept an ear out as to what was going on nearby.

The guard was nervous, his fear wafting in the air for any with keen enough senses to notice. Likely only she could. Nonetheless, it was clearly visible to the prince as well, for despite the silence he finally sighed and continued.

“… I don’t mean for you to cover for me forever. Just… Be willfully blind in this case. I’ll return to bed before sundown. You have my word, Lieutenant Arrion.”

It was too far for her to see the man’s expression, but not to hear his sigh of defeat. “My prince.” He bowed his head, then left for the door. Arrion. That name was unfamiliar to her, but Shyvana would not pretend she knew everyone in the keep after a mere week. Now the prince she did know, at least to an extent. A bit longer. She’d watch just for a bit then return to her book. There should be no harm in that.

Watching people was the best way to get to know them. Seeing how they responded to things, assessing them before choosing to get close or keep back. Even in the forest village she’d called home not everyone was kind, especially on their bad days. She’d dealt with scorn, heard whispers that human ears did not from her distance. So she heard the prince muttering some curse under his breath when he tried to stand- And had to sit back in the wheeled chair soon after with a wince of pain.

She bit the inside of her cheek in faint sympathy. It was more than simple restlessness, wasn’t it. He was a warrior in build, broad and as powerful as she’d ever seen a human be (despite his wounds). In the heat of battle he must have been formidable. Now his strength was taken away and he was resigned to a chair, hounded by chiding healers and worried soldiers he probably commanded in that bright gold armour of his.

What was it like to command others, to have them listen rather than scoff at one’s words? What was it like to have donned that armour in the heat of battle? She’d read about countless fights, about the wars that seemed to come and go across Valoran over the years like the waves with the moon on the coasts. But she knew that reading about battle and taking part in one were two different beasts, comparing a raptor to a full grown dragon. What had he seen, waging war with Noxus..? Was there fire, engulfing swaths of land, dyeing the sky in grey and red smoke…

“Excuse me… Shyvana?”

Ah, she was being spoken to. She focused and saw the prince looking right at her. He smiled, but it seemed somewhat… Sheepish?

“I apologize for taking you from your reading, but in my current… Condition, I can’t reach the book I’m looking for. Might I ask for your assistance?”

… Hm. Her violet skin hid the heat in her cheeks at not having noticed him looking back at her sooner. Were her skills already dull from a week in comfort? Her exhale was certainly hot as she stood up from her seat, but he should not notice that either. Thankfully. After setting her book down on a nearby table, she faced him.

“Where is this book?”

He gestured over to the far wall. Shyvana recognized it; that was where many of the Wrenwall’s records were found. “I’m not quite certain… It should be something along the lines of _Keep Defenses_. Perhaps _Soldier Records_. It has been some time since I’ve been in Wrenwall, I cannot recall exactly what they call it.”

Well, it was somewhere to start at least. Shyvana headed over to the shelf he’d gestured towards. The chair’s wheels squeaked behind her as the prince followed. Hmm. _Crop Rotations 976, Store Counts 982_ … She followed the line of books, but nothing yet…

After a moment of silence, the prince spoke again. “I’d like whichever edition was penned most recently. If I recall right they used to be stored on the second highest shelf.”

Oh. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? He was tall enough that he could likely just reach that high were he able to stand, but she would not be able to. She resisted rolling her eyes and looked around for another chair to stand on. Fortunately, there were a few around and they all seemed sturdy enough that she was unconcerned with standing on them.

She felt his gaze on her as she did this. What was he thinking? Drawing attention to it would make things awkward, so she focused on her task, getting up on the chair and looking for the records he wanted.

“… You can’t fly to reach the shelf?”

She stiffened at the question. She smelled smoke before a faint wisp of it left her nose. The prince realized he’d erred and quickly spoke again.

“Oh, I meant no offense-”

“No. It’s alright.” Shyvana interrupted him. “I’m just… I am not used to such questions.” Or any questions, really. Usually it was insults. After the shock she could recognize his tone was curious, not condemning. It was just _strange_ . Didn’t Demacians hate magic? Surely transforming into a dragon and summoning fire qualified as magical abilities..? She took a breath, recomposing herself. “… As for your question, I could- If I became a full dragon and knocked over every shelf in this library in a ring of fire.” There it was, _Keep Defenses, 996_. She slid the book from the shelf and stepped down from her chair. Offering the book to him, she continued. “And somehow I doubt that would impress the guards outside.”

He laughed. “No, you’re right. We’d both get thrown out at the very least.” He smiled at her as he took the book from her. It extended to his eyes, but she read curiosity there too. He had more questions, she already knew. Alright. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Shyvana raised a hand.

“Let’s sit down first.” Or, um. “… Let _me_ sit first.” He had little choice in the matter, did he? Besides that, was that the wrong way to speak to a prince? He seemed more casual than she’d expect the ruler of a nation to be. He didn’t seem to _mind_ it; he nodded with the same smile.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

She’d led them back to the chair she liked to sit in. There was enough space for the prince’s chair beside her. And for a while they had read, her her fairy tales, him his report. But as she’d anticipated, the questions came eventually. They were innocuous at first; he asked how she liked Wrenwall, whether the soldiers were treating her kindly. She had no complaints. She could have still been running through the forest, sleeping under thickets and drinking from rivers. She might have to again soon. But there was respite for now and she would take it, even if it meant having a prince ask her questions.

They weren’t all that bad, really. It was just a lot of _talking,_ something she was never quite comfortable with. Her many weeks alone did nothing to help on that front. But this was helping her reacquaint with talking to someone else. The prince, Jarvan, seemed not to mind her shorter answers, and he nodded and listened without interruption.

Then he asked where she was from. Ah. It had to come eventually. Shyvana took in a breath before answering. Yvva was still close to her mind. The forest burning, her father…

“… It was a small village in the mountains. My father and I lived there.”

“The dragon?”

Pfft. “No. My father was human.” She did not mention he was a mage. What did it matter anymore? “… He was going to sell me in Piltover, but my hatching disrupted his plans. He decided to care for me instead…” And he died for it. She felt heat rising in her chest again. Think of something else… “What of your parents? I know little about Demacia.”

He looked like he’d been about to ask something else, but he answered her question after a little pause. “My parents… I never knew my mother, but it’s said she was fair and kind. My father married her to secure peace between the noble houses. There was unrest in those years. She died in childbirth... My father never remarried, so it was just he and I. But I was raised by others too. Auntie Tianna- Ah, Tianna Crownguard, and my uncle Xin Zhao. He taught me the spear and the sword. Without him, I would never have wielded Drakesbane. As for my father… His life is devoted to the state. As any king’s should be, I suppose. Heh, he warned me against joining the warhost… I’m still not sure how I’ll go back to him like this.”

 _Drakesbane_ … The name was vaguely familiar, but she kept that in her mind for another time. That last bit stuck out to her. He was scared to return to his father… “Because you were wounded in battle? Surely that happens to any soldier. He should be happy to see you’re alive.”

He shook his head, and even looked away. “No. It’s not that… Heh, though that does sting my pride.” He was quiet for a moment, composing his thoughts. Shyvana gave him time.

“… It’s how I got there in the first place. I disregarded the advice of my betters. They told me we were too far from our supply lines, from reinforcements… But I was so _angry_ . Noxus… They are _pigs._ They destroy everything in their path. They raze the fields, pillage their conquests… I’d never seen such suffering. All I could think of is how others were suffering, and I could do something about it.” He laughed, but this time it was a more bitter sound. “So I pressed forward. For a while we were successful. Then… We were ambushed. We walked right into a trap prepared by the Noxians. All my troops died. The last of them fought so I could escape. For a while, I could. But one of their archers got me… That’s what I get for wearing my gold armour.” He shook his head, softly sighing. It took another moment for him to speak again, and when he did he finally looked her in the face once more.

“You know the rest. Somehow, fate brought you to me. How did you find me, anyways?”

She was fleeing as much as he was. But Shyvana merely shrugged. She didn’t want to think of Yvva. For all she knew, that would summon the dragon closer. “… It’s as you said; fate.” Or chance. “I followed the smell of blood and found you. I recognized your armour as Demacian and knew I could save your life. So I flew you here.” That seemed like a bit of a lame finish… “… You know the rest.”

“Heh.” He glanced towards the window- And frowned. “It’s nearly dark- I can’t be out much later. The healers might already be looking for me.” He turned his chair and began to wheel away, but soon turned again. “… Would you meet me here again tomorrow? I enjoy talking to you, Shyvana. I can’t stand being cooped in one room all day without company.”

He enjoyed talking to her… That was new. But Shyvana made herself keep looking him in the eyes. “… I can be here.”

“Good. Until then.” And with that, he wheeled away. Her mouth twitched in amusement when he had to knock on the door to have a guard open it for him. _Until tomorrow, prince._

It was late. The soldiers would be having dinner soon. She usually joined them in their meals, it was easiest for everyone that way and she had no wish to draw too much attention to her presence while she was here by requiring special treatment. As she stood to go in turn, she glanced at the reports he’d been perusing. Still working, even while he was meant to be resting and recovering. Heh, what would those healers have said? 

He should read real books while he was here. There must be something he’d like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some more content. I had writer's block because getting the characters' first real interaction down was so important. I already know where the next chapter will go so that should be done faster. Thank you to everyone who's been kudosing this work. Expect more soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter apparently exactly a month from the last. Enjoy.

Their days were spent with several hours in each other’s company. Sometimes they would really just read, but more often their questions would become conversations. Jarvan did a lot of the talking. He spoke of the walls of Demacia, of the white and gold and blue that decorated the Great City. He spoke of the castle he grew up in, the gardens and the massive Alabaster library near the heart of Demacia. That would be worth a visit to, if she ever went to Demacia itself.

She didn’t have a lot to contribute to most of his tales. Her life was nowhere near as interesting as his seemed, living in a place such as the capital of Demacia and being expected to rule it one day. So for the most part, she listened quietly. When his strength waned and his responses grew shorter, Shyvana tried to fill in the conversation or simply offered him a book. While his words didn’t bother her, neither did the silence that passed when the two of them were reading. It was somehow… Calming, having another person around and simply passing the time together. One day she would have to return to solitude… She would take what company she could get in the meantime.

She would pass him the books she read, which most often were myths. Wrenwall seemed to have little on dragons besides stories (and the occasional very vague report of a sighting), so stories were what she read. From there, she simply continued with what other tales went along with what she started reading. Many were tales she’d heard of before, such as the Tale of the Three Sisters from the Freljord and, surprisingly, the rumours of a mysterious city in Shurima lost to a forgotten cataclysm. She knew of the tale, but her father had been to Shurima before. Yvva was from Shurima… Was she still in pursuit, razing the mountain forests in search for her? Feh…

So far, she hadn’t heard a peep from the black dragon. So so far, she remained here in Wrenwall. It seemed being a half-dragon eventually ceased being interesting to the general populace of soldiers given enough time. Some would still do a double take seeing her out of the corners of their eyes, but if they were bothered no one voiced their complaints at her presence.

It was the fifth book she offered relating to such tales when he finally commented on her choice of reading material.

“Are you fond of fairy tales, Shyvana?”

“…” Was that odd? Was she being called childish? She scanned his face for an amused look, or any kind of mockery. But… It seemed like a sincere question. He’d never been malicious in his questioning before now… She decided to take it as genuine curiosity. “My father would bring them back for me when he went on travels. I suppose it’s a tradition for me to continue reading them. And,” She decided to add at the end, “I find my kind represented more in fairy tales than in other works.”

“Your kind? Oh- Dragons. I see.”

That was a strange pause in his words. But Shyvana had little time to consider what it meant, as Jarvan continued. “I admit, I stopped paying much attention to these tales once I was old enough to begin learning how to use weapons. But some of these stories are intriguing… Many are clearly inspired by true historical events that are not common knowledge among the people.”

That made sense; her father always alluded to such when he told her tales from the four corners of the world. A story with a grain of truth was more compelling than one of total cut cloth. Normally Shyvana would simply have nodded, but Jarvan was looking at her like he had more to say. So she chose to play along. “What made you think of that?”

“Well, the obvious candidate is The Canticle of the Sisters. Many in Demacia consider it to be just a myth, that our Protector’s story isn’t meant to be taken completely literally, but I’m not so certain. There are too many monuments, too much evidence to suggest their battle really did take place at the heart of Demacia. And Targon is full of mystery… I wouldn’t doubt it was true that the Winged and Veiled sisters did battle then left for their mother’s home. Heh, but I’m no historian. I’m sure more learned people would argue for it better than I would.”

“The Canticle…” She had to think on that one for a moment. Obviously it was a Demacian myth. Despite their proximity to Demacian lands it was not a place her father had often frequented. “… Oh, the tale of the daughters of the Aspect of Justice.” She didn’t remember all the details... Worse, the more she thought of it, the more she was certain the version she’d read was incomplete. Interesting that such an important story wasn’t in any of the books here. She wracked her mind, trying to think of other Demacian myths. She’d always been partial to the tales of Shurima and Ionia, but there must be something Demacian she was more familiar with… Oh, there was something. “What about Orlon the Blacksmith? Did he not found Demacia? I don’t remember the Canticle mentioning him.”

Jarvan frowned, and after a moment of silence shrugged. “You probably remember the tale better than I do. But yes, Orlon certainly founded Demacia. We have plenty of evidence of that. Written evidence especially, but also his weapons… Such as Drakesbane.”

 _Drakesbane_ … Wait, he had mentioned this before-

“It wasn’t used for centuries. Knowledge of how to wield it in battle was lost to time. Heh, Orlon left some of his construction notes in the archive, but nothing on Drakesbane. But it was too beautiful of a weapon to let languish. I begged Uncle to train me in its use for a solid month. Every day I asked until he finally agreed. Heh… It still took years for him to do so. I cut myself so many times Auntie Tianna apparently yelled at Uncle for it. But I learned eventually…” He sighed. His fingers curled against the arm of his wheeled chair. “As soon as the healer clears me I’m going to swing her around again. I can’t afford to get rusty.”

Shyvana stood. “I remembered I have something I have to do. Go… Rest. The sooner you do that the sooner you can train again.” And with that, she quickly walked out, ignoring his puzzled expression.

* * *

Damn it all. She knew she shouldn’t have left the weapon. It was heavy and ancient, beautiful in its workings. She’d been in such a rush when she travelled, Jarvan had been so close to death, that she’d left it behind to make better time. He’d been able to carry it for quite some time, in fact his hand had been clenched around the spear when she’d first found him, but as he weakened it had slipped and she hadn’t seen the point in wasting time going back for it.

Now she heard that his weapon was a weapon of myth, forged by Orlon himself. _Damn it!_

She couldn’t just leave it out in the open, where any Noxian might stumble upon it. Clearly Jarvan loved that spear if he’d spent years learning how to use it. He couldn’t just get it replaced; no one even knew how it was made. And it sounded as if it was a symbol of Demacia itself. If Noxian troops did get it, it would cause a surge in morale among them. They might even use it to claim Jarvan was dead.

She couldn’t allow any of that to happen.

It didn’t take her long to make preparations. She already knew where she needed to go and how many provisions she needed. It would be a little less than a day to fly. Going to the kitchen, she found some day old bread, some dried meat, and a little cheese. It would do until she got back. If she was really hungry she could hunt something on her way.

As she was gathering up her provisions, another thought struck her though. Jarvan might think she left without a word. She needed to tell someone something. But who..?

This was so unnecessarily complicated. With another curse on her breath, Shyvana went back up to the library.

Thankfully she didn’t run into Jarvan. She didn’t want to explain herself; she didn’t want him to know his precious Drakesbane was missing. With any luck he wouldn’t learn of it at all; she’d just put it down at the barracks once she found it and he’d never be any wiser. But it had to be back soon. Yes, someone was by the door- It was a guard she didn’t recognize; a tall lady with dark skin and eye-catching golden earrings. But she couldn’t wait around for a guard she did recognize to happen to be around. She stood in silence for a moment, hoping the guard would ask her if she needed something… But when they both just watched each other for a moment she realized she would have to speak up.

“… I have a message. For J- The prince.” The guard blinked, seemingly confused, but Shyvana quickly continued. She didn’t want to draw this out, it was already painfully uncomfortable. “If he asks where I am, tell him I… Tell him I’m hunting something, and I will be back as soon as possible.”

“Wait, but I’m not-“

“Just do it! Please.” And with that, Shyvana turned, briskly walking away. The guard didn’t follow her, thankfully. Well. As long as the message was conveyed it shouldn’t matter who delivered it… She hoped, anyways.

With that, she set out from the castle.

* * *

It took a fair bit of time to cross the city gates. From there, Shyvana still took the time to be out of immediate eyeshot before transforming. She still had no interest in causing the citizens of Wrenwall panic. Not everyone had witnessed her transformation and she wanted to keep it that way. She’d made great strides with the people of this town, but fear was a powerful emotion that made everyone stupid, herself included. 

Of course the weapon was important. Of course it was. Of course it was; it was being carried by a soldier in bright gold. She still kicked herself about leaving it behind. But there was nothing to do now but attempt to correct her mistake.

Untransformed, Shyvana tried to keep thoughts of Yvva at bay as much as possible. But to take on her draconic form, to grow wings from her arms and summon her fire, thoughts of that wyrm fueled her faster than anything. Her transformation took no time at all, and she took to the skies, carrying her provisions in one claw.

She knew where she’d left Drakesbane; she remembered because it was the only lake she’d come across. It wasn’t a huge body of water, but it had been clean enough to not make her sick. She’d flown northwest to get to Wrenwall; all she should have to do was follow the river to find it again.

But as a dragon, alone with her thoughts, there was nothing to distract her from the reality of her situation. Yvva had lost track of her for now, but she knew her mother shared a mental connection with her. How long would it take for Yvva to find her again? How long could she hide from the beast?

A soft growl left her that surprised even herself. Smoke left her nose. Why should she have to run? Why did Yvva pursue her so? Abomination. Feh. The first time she felt Yvva in the recesses of her mind the dragon had roared that word. Abomination. I will scourge you from the earth.

She wished she had spoken to her father about the nightmares instead of ignoring them. Maybe he would have known what to do. Maybe they wouldn’t have been blindsided by Yvva’s appearance, by her fire that destroyed their home. Yvva wasn’t going to give up; that was stupid wishful thinking. No. Eventually, she would have to deal with this. Eventually, something would have to give.

She knew what she must do. But when she considered battle, considered wrestling Yvva from the sky, she remembered the choking blackness and heat so high she could sense it even through her thickened scales. She remembered her father telling her to run, not to fight.

Her blood told her to fight. A dragon should kneel to nothing. A dragon that surrendered to another was nothing but a slave. But could she win? Even her father hadn’t believed she could. What were her chances of victory?

She was left with those thoughts as she flew over the dense forests of Demacia. 

* * *

Something was wrong. She sensed it, smelled it on the wind. Then there was the silence. When she had been here before, there was plenty of wildlife. Birds sang their individual songs, various insects chirped and buzzed. Many animals did fall silent in the presence of a dragon, but those two things had always continued. She wasn’t so high that she wouldn’t be able to hear anything either. There should have been sound, and there was none.

It didn’t take long for her to see it. The forests were discoloured. When she’d passed through here she admittedly had been focused on other matters than admiring the scenery, but this was unmistakably different. The trees weren’t their usual green, or even the yellow of fall. They were nothing but black and white poles, stripped of their leaves. The ground below was the grey of ash and dust. More smoke faintly rose from the remnants of what had been a forest mere weeks ago.

It could have been Noxus. _Perhaps._ But not so far into Demacian territory. Besides, an army wouldn’t move through dense foliage when there were roads around, much less burn their way through it. Besides, she hadn’t seen anyone for miles now. An army would have been impossible to miss.

Yvva had been here.

The flame was not recent; it had likely been several days since the black dragon had been through here. But she was angry, angry and bold enough to let loose her fire. Why? Why bother? The trees weren’t responsible for her escape. The animals hadn’t helped her in her flight.

She snorted, disgusted. None of this was necessary. Only a monster would take delight in causing suffering for no purpose. A knot formed in Shyvana’s stomach, but she willed herself forward. What was left of the trees would provide her no cover if she happened upon Yvva. Might as well go as quickly as possible.

* * *

The lake was still there, though there was a clear pale ring where the water had once touched rock but was now dry. The fire must have burned even the water away into mist. There was a distinct chill in the air as she landed and regained her human form. Shyvana shivered and put her clothes on again wordlessly. It was inconvenient, but it would have been worse to have shredded borrowed clothes and needed to seek out another set.

She wondered whether enchanted clothes that would transform with her existed in the world. Well, that would have to be an inquiry for another time.

It wasn’t difficult to find Drakesbane amidst the destruction around her; the weapon might have been dark when paired with bright Demacian gold and white, but in charred earth and wood it glinted enough for her sharp eyes to pick up. It was just a matter of walking around the lake’s edge to retrieve it. Silently, Shyvana thanked the higher beings that it had not landed in the lake. She could swim, but diving into a murky lake without knowing what lurked within it was not on her list of pleasant ways to pass an evening.

Once she reached the legendary weapon, she took a moment, testing its weight. Hm. It wasn’t as heavy as she remembered when she lifted it. The weight was strangely distributed, however, and looking at it more closely she saw joints where the spear seemed meant to… Open? Curious. Once Jarvan had it back she would have to see how he used it. She wasn’t familiar enough with any weapons to want to try it herself. Not without a demonstration first, at least.

The thought of her friend getting his weapon back made her faintly smile, despite herself. He’d better be happy… She was sure he would be. How many times how had he watched her smash training dummies with a longing look? Heh. He’d be back to form soon, she knew it.

If only she had more time. But if Yvva was here, she had to go soon. She had planned to rest here for the night… But the quiet unsettled her. Shyvana only took a brief rest to have a bite to eat, then took to the skies once more, Drakesbane now clutched in her talons.

* * *

Her strength finally failed her after a few hours of flight. The warm drafts of air that she used to glide on to make her way to the lake had disappeared along with the sun dipping beyond the horizon. Her wings were sore and she felt herself getting closer and closer to the tops of the trees. She’d left the barren forest behind her for more vibrant and familiar territory. It would still be several hours before she could make it back to Wrenwall, and it wasn’t as though she’d likely be able to enter until morning with the gates shut. Well, getting back in one night had always been optimistic. Shyvana decided to get some rest. There was moss peppering the earth below her, and while it didn’t make a good bed it was better than nothing. Or worse, rocks and an open plain.

It took her no time to gather some sticks into a triangle to set alight with some fire from her palms. With a small source of heat, she lay down and closed her eyes, trying to get a small bit of sleep.

_I **sense** you, abomination! There is no escape from me._

She was choking again, blind against the plumes of dense black. Her eyes stung, she coughed and sunk to her knees. The presence around her was crushing, suffocating her fire. Two golden eyes shone through the dark smoke. Foul breath washed over her, adding to her urge to gag. It was the same burning flesh and hair from her father’s last moments mixed with the stink of any large unwashed beast. Yvva was there, Yvva was coming, fury blazing-

Shyvana woke with a cry. Immediately she winced- There was a bright ray of sunlight piercing through the canopy of leaves above her, hitting her right in the face. Even that could not distract her from her dream; Yvva was coming. She did not know how far the black dragon was- She could be a day’s flight away, she could be hot on her heels. She did not know how to exploit their connection to learn more and did not want to waste precious time trying blindly.

Shaking the last of sleep from her head, Shyvana stood- Ah. She’d been holding on to Drakesbane in her sleep. It had been used to kill dragons in the past; it must have with a name like that. But she did not know how to wield it. Looking down the length of the weapon provided no answers.

_Jarvan…_

… No. She couldn’t put him at risk. She couldn’t allow Wrenwall to suffer for her sake. This was her problem; she had to resolve it herself. She would return Drakesbane to its rightful owner first, then… Then leave.

It was for the best.


End file.
